Danny Robbins, Boy Wonder
by February 13
Summary: Butterflies can create tornadoes. Danny Robbins can create absolute pandemonium. AU. Seven-shot.
1. In Lieu of a Preview

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**Danny Robbins, Boy Wonder**

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**in lieu of a preview**

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**Part One and Some**

Danny Robbins is a boy with zero presence, a straight B-student, another nameless player on the Briarwood soccer team, overshadowed by his extra-ordinary friends. What he doesn't realize is that even the little things can change the lives of everyone around him.

--**M**—

**1.1 Monday's Child – **If Danny Robbins's had never added mayonnaise to his sandwich at Alicia Rivera's infamous end-of-the-year party, would Massie Block's life still be ruined?

(_Massie Block, your beautiful, flawless Massie is no longer beautiful. No longer flawless._)

--**K**--

**1.2 Tuesday's Child **– If Danny Robbins's had never advertised a brochure on tea parties and freshwater pearl necklaces, would Kendra Block still fall prey to the Stepford Wives' society?

(_Kendra, her ankles daintily crossed and her thulian pink lips daintily parted to reveal her molars, fidgets uncomfortable as twenty pairs of narrowed eyes descend on her._)

--**C**--

**1.3 Wednesday's Child **– If Danny Robbins's had never been loitering around the soda vending machine, would Claire still have been dead?

(_Her nervous eyes water with apprehension from the cigarette smoke. The mahogany glass bottles brimming with temptation manages to justify the morality of the situation._)

--**K**--

**1.4 Thursday's Child **– If Danny Robbins had never specifically donned the diamond necklace Massie had bestowed upon him, would Kristen still be on the FBI's most wanted list?

(_Those beautiful four-karat Tiffany earrings. Their mischievous twinkle convinces Kristen to inconspicuously slide those beauties in deep within her leather limited edition satchel, amongst the packs of Trident gum, spare change and her wallet._)

--**K**--

**1.5 Friday's Child **– If Danny Robbins had never muttered the word "apples" and "fruits" in the same sentence, would Kemp Hurley still have been honor roll student and class valedictorian?

(_White papers. Exam papers, essay papers, pop quiz papers, worksheet papers. Horrible white papers blemished with a bright red "F", an emblem of failure and an invitation for disappointment._)

--**D**--

**1.6 Saturday's Child **– If Danny Robbins's copper penny had never clattered on the bamboo hardwood flooring, would Derek Harrington still be starving in a cardboard box on the streets of Bronx, New York?

(_"Don't you get it? This," he motions to the two cherry red and lemon yellow Lamborghinis, "isn't me."_)

--**A**--

**1.7 Sabbath Day's Child **– If Danny Robbins had never bought a bottle of aspirin at CVS whilst Alicia browsed the magazine aisle, would Alicia Rivera still be confined in a rehabilitation center for drug abuse?

(_She admits. She's addicted to gossip. Gossip is her marijuana, the nicotine in her cigarettes, her heroin; the drugs that made her feel powerful._)

**Part Two with Some Glue**

Butterflies can create tornadoes.

Danny Robbins can create absolute pandemonium.

--**A/N**--

Sudden idea while I was watching Twilight this Saturday. What do you think?


	2. Monday's Child

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**Monday's Child**

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_Monday's child is fair of face_

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When Massie Block is grieved and mourned by the attendees of her much publicized funeral, she will be remembered for her gracious smile and alluring personality. Her upstanding reputation will be praised by her fellow wealthy peers of the prestigious academy, BOCD, as they dab their swollen eyes with their expensive, ebony, lace handkerchiefs. Her unanimous popularity grants her a large audience, as well as unwavering support, an extensive fan base, and an army of faithful minions.

This, of course, only applies when misfortune _happens _to befall our favorite protagonist and she _happens _to pass away.

--**M**--

_You're going to see me in your dreams tonight._

--

It's a beautiful sandwich, glittering with the promise of a good meal. The two loaves of lightly toasted, whole-wheat bread were smothered with mayonnaise. Juicy, tender chunks of ham were enfolded in fresh, myrtle green leaves of iceberg lettuce, surrounded by cucumbers, onions, and tomatoes.

"Danny, you—" Massie Block, the epitome of perfection, staggers unsteadily in her precarious, ten-inch, thigh-high boots, giggling erratically. It's only expected of her to be invited to Len and Nadia Rivera's prized daughter, Alicia Rivera's, exclusive end-of-the-year party. "Are you eating that? That disgusting…mayonnaise."

It is not the mayonnaise itself that fascinates you. It's the reminiscence of summer when the humidity is unbearable and the cement is scorching that gets you lost in a bout of emotions.

"Actually, um, Massie, I, you see…" Occupied by the overwhelming conflict of stuttering the undeniable truth and spinning smooth lies, you hardly notice the inconspicuous glint of recklessness, lust, and desire.

"Danny, you're so cute," Massie slurs and puckers her slightly chapped lips. "Danny, come give your girlfriend a kiss."

_Click._

--**M**--

_My face is going to haunt you all the time._

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The young woman's skin is like porcelain, as if the slightest touch would _shatter_. The delicate, pale color is neither milky nor splotchy, rather like the color of a jasmine flower petal, giving her the appearance of an ethereal wraith. Her slightly wavy if not straight hair rests an inch above her shoulders, the ends curling inward slightly; her unruly bangs clipped to the side purposefully not stylishly.

The young woman's name was Massie Block, the uncontested ruler of her kingdom, BOCD.

The young woman's name is Massie Block, dethroned and isolated.

The intangible fire in her amber eyes douses, leaving her completely vulnerable and exposed. The Swarovski crystal earrings no longer sparkles exuberantly. Her fiery red fingernails no longer burns. Her long, brown hair no longer gleams sparkling clean; rather, it is tainted with filth.

Massie Block, your beautiful, flawless Massie is no longer beautiful. No longer flawless.

--**M**--

_I promise that you gon' want me back_

--

_Claire Lyons._

_Dylan Marvil._

_Kristen Gregory._

_Kemp Hurley._

_The couch, like a pool of water, swallowed the four as they wallowed in their youth, guzzling spiked punch and margaritas and burping their ABCs._

_Alicia Rivera._

_Despite her skintight, leather miniskirt and her low-cut camisole and the cigarette dangling from the corner of her smirking, cardinal red lips, she defines innocence. Alicia Rivera was never one to engage in provocative behavior._

_"When we look back on this in fifty years, we'll smile to ourselves as we remember the past."_

_Alicia steadied the Nikon Coolpix Camera in her quivering hands. The camera: an insightful way to capture those precious giggles and hearty bellows._

Slam! _Alicia is pushed, shoved and jostled into the pantry._

Click.

--**M**--

_When your world falls apart, like shattered glass_

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When Massie Block is guffawed and ridiculed by the attendees of her almost deserted funeral, she will be detested for that _one _kiss at Alicia's memorable party. Her notorious reputation will be mocked by her fellow wealthy peers of the prestigious academy, BOCD, as they text their numerous friends about "that whore, Massie" out of respect for the deceased. Her unanimous infamy grants her irrefutable shame, as well as backstabbing best friends, anti-Massie Blocks, and shitloads of hate mail.

Everyone will forget that upstanding Massie Block; the shadow of the past always haunting her to her grave, unrelenting and merciless.

--**M**--

_Monday's child is fair of face._

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_If Danny Robbins had never added mayonnaise to his sandwich at Alicia Rivera's infamous end-of-the-year party, would Massie have ever kissed Danny?_

_Would Alicia have ever accidentally taken a picture of the two?_

_Would Alicia have ever posted the discriminating evidence on Facebook out of spite for Massie?_

_Would Derrick still have neglected Massie for Olivia Ryan?_

_Would she still have been degraded to a whore?_

_Would Massie's life still be ruined?_

If only Danny Robbins had never added mayonnaise to his sandwich.

--**A/N**--

Continue?


	3. Tuesday's Child

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Clique characters, the lyrics of the song _Albertine_ by Brooke Fraser, or the poem "Monday's Child".

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**Tuesday's Child**

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_Tuesday's child is full of grace._

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Kendra Block had high expectations and ideals for her perfect child. A well-groomed, robust man christened after his father, William Block. He would be disciplined by firm yet fair rules such as maintaining a polite behavior in the audience of another. She would respect his opinions, values, and beliefs and pervade a proper sense of fear and regard for his elders (namely his mother). With raw umber curls and eccentric cornflower blue eyes, he would capture the hearts of many and motivate others for the better.

Then there was _Massie_.

--**K**--

_Now that I have seen, I am responsible._

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_"I want ice cream." _

_Kendra, her lively eyes fraught by the responsibilities of parenting a spoiled princess, dragged her six-year-old daughter away from the dairy aisle._

_"I want caramel apples."_

_Kendra, her baby soft hands calloused by the obligation of handling a bawling baby, hauled the screaming toddler from the produce section._

_"I want Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal."_

_Kendra, her elegant stature weathered by constant demands of her daughter, towed the young girl in the flower-printed bathing suit from the multitudes of cereal, bread, cakes, cupcakes, muffins and bagels._

_"I want candy."_

_"I want a Palm Pilot."_

_"I want a limousine and my own chauffeur."_

_"I want to attend Octavian Country Day."_

_I want. I want. I want._

_Kendra Block, who had once gallantly preached the essence of authority and punishment, succumbed to every one of her frivolous daughter's desires._

--**K**--

_Faith without deeds is dead_.

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"Is that your greatest concern? What ever happened to _us_, Kendra? What happened to our marriage?" An infuriated William Block's face is contorted by grief and annoyance. "Is this what you want? To sacrifice our undying love for the perfect child? Face it, Kendra, Massie will _never _be perfect and neither will you."

A Bordeaux glass shatters against the ebony marble tiles of their contemporary kitchen; along with it, a tear; a liquid jewel comprised of Kendra's greatest fears, doubts, and despair.

"But I love you too, Will."

--**K**--

_Now that I have held you in my own arms, I cannot let go till you are._

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"Miss Block?" You present your poorly constructed brochure riddled with careless grammar errors, punctuation errors, and spelling errors to an incredulous Mrs. Block. "We are pleased to present New York's finest kindergarteners. On Tuesday, September 29, at exactly twelve o' clock sharp, we are inviting you to our annual tea party. All earnings will benefit a charity of you choice."

Your wholesome, gap-toothed grin spawns a beautiful crescent crease on her worn lips. Her seared fingers rumple your styled-with-care liberty spikes.

"Very well, I do believe—"

From the warmth of their three-story mansion, a creature—so agile and graceful—ensnares you in a tangle of feather boas, leopard-print capes, orange towels and slinky, strapless dresses.

"DANNY! Darling, I do believe I missed you so, _so_, SO much!" Massie Block croons, her voice resonating with uncontained delight. Her amber eyes scintillates with enthusiasm unbeknownst to Kendra. "Come now, you don't need to indulge in such petty matters with _Kendra_. Of _course_, she'll be there. You should've just skipped her—that poor soul—and moved on."

_You should've just skipped her and moved on._

--**K**—

_I am on a plane across a distant sea._

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Tailored, charcoal gray, high-waisted pencil skirt. Fitted, pristine, ivory, Anne Klein blouse. Customized leather Balenciaga purse. Limited edition velvet Christian Louboutin peep-toe pumps. This—this vulgar display of wealth is yet another feeble effort to appease her darling daughter.

_"Look, _mother_, you better not embarrass me in front of Danny. The least you could do is _look _like you have money."_

Her wrists were raw as she strained against the shackles—these shackles that bound her to the only thing that kept her from running away from everything.

_Massie Block_. She's the poison that contaminated her system, obliterating all reason, justice and logic.

"Such improper little bitches, don't you agree?" The woman—whose elaborate cloche hat Kendra envies—comments with a malicious sparkle in her words. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

Kendra, her ankles daintily crossed and her thulian pink lips daintily parted to reveal her molars, fidgets uncomfortable as twenty pairs of narrowed eyes descend on her.

--**K**--

_But I carry you in me._

--

Kendra may not have a perfect child.

Kendra may not have the perfect husband.

But Kendra has the satisfaction of perfection.

--**K**--

_Tuesday's child is full of grace._

--

_If Danny Robbins had never been advertising his kindergarten class's tea party, would Kendra have ever known of the event?_

_Would Kendra have ever attended?_

_Would Kendra have ever been exposed to the socialites of Westchester County?_

_Would Kendra still be striving for perfection she could never achieve?_

_Would Kendra still be manipulated and controlled by those around her?_

_Would Kendra still have fallen prey to the Stepford Wives' society?_

If only Danny Robbins had never been advertising his kindergarten class's tea party.

--**A/N**--

I'm sick.

My head hurts, my stomach hurts, my arms hurt, my legs hurt, and everything hurts.

But review?


	4. Wednesday's Child

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**Wednesday's Child**

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_Wednesday's child is full of woe._

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**CLAIRE**

**Gender**: Girl

**Origin**: French and Latin

**Meaning**: Clear; bright; _famous_

While six-year-old Claire Lyons abided the excruciatingly long wait in front of the Minskoff Theatre Box Office by indulging herself with the nictating splendors and lambencies on the forty-fifth street of New York City, she was enlightened of the embodiment of theatricals, fancying herself on Broadway as Belle of Beauty and the Beast.

This exposure was further nurtured and nourished, sustained by her desires of debut and wistful hankerings for fame.

Claire Lyons would be clear, bright and famous.

--**C**--

_Late night contemplating on the words to say_

--

When Judi Lyons relinquished her position as housewife and mother and stripped herself of her mediocre lifestyle, blights and banes plagued the Lyon's family—particularly Jay Lyons. His fascination with the euphoria, the paradise, that his _escape_ provided for him fringed obsession; an addiction adjacent to his infatuation with television (_Judi Johnson's Hollywood Juice_). Worries and woes wane when Claire and Todd's worthless father is slouched on the stained carpet (for they had to auction their furniture in order to pay their bills) with a plastic cup of pale ale clenched in his fumbling hands, deploring his rampant state of mind. _It's all Judi's fault. It's all Judi's fault. It's all Judi's fault. It's all Judi's fault._

It's all Judi's fault.

--**C**--

_Got to set the record straight_

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Because Jay is no longer the "conservative yet fun-loving BFF" (William) and Todd is "a son of a bitch" (Massie), the residents of the Block estate had concurred that they can no longer support the Lyons family (those who remain) physically, mentally, and financially.

However, William is willing to reimburse "the good years when you did so much for me, Jay" by bequeathing a foster address, subsidies for Octavian Day Country, and the love and affection America's most beloved sweetheart deserved.

--**C**--

_I can't pretend I'm alright_

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Derek Harrington and Massie Block are coddling and cosseting. His gropes under her lavender blouse and grazes behind her dangling amethyst earrings elicit the green monstrosity within you, but the jealousy dawdling beneath your delighted guise is discernible by only Claire who responds with a question about your summer escapades.

"How were the Bahamas, Danny?" A blatant blush blossoms like a bridal pink rose. "Was it extravagant? Did you meet any famous celebrities?"

She is stuttering and stammering, silently scuffling with the sobbing that will soon succeed. At times, Claire's endearment is excruciatingly exhausting to endure.

"I bet you meet celebrities every day," you mutter. You acknowledge the instance in which you were to suffer the remaining thirty minutes of Claire's hopeless attempts at flirting and she were to weep and wail because of your lack of attention, her petty friends would maim you (namely MASSIE). Whereupon, if you were to rebuff Claire's futile advances and she were to bawl and blubber, the Pretty Committee would luxate your ligaments anyways.

You choose the latter.

"I guess America's Hollywood Sweetheart isn't so sweet after all. I mean, that's why you were in this week's issue of _People_ along with Conner Foley and the rest of his mates with a piece of cloth barely covering your thighs and breasts and a bottle of Bud Light?"

Claire trembles with trepidation, terror twisting her diction with hems and haws. "I-I-It wasn't really my fault—I'm serious! Abby suggested a b-birthday party for Conner and she said that I really needed to really 'loosen up, babe' but I…I told her that I couldn't because I really, really, really didn't—believe me, Danny!—want to with her and anyways I had to…"

The points of Massie's pomegranate nails crawl the length of Derek's toned-from-years-of-sports arm, fondling and fingering his taut muscles.

The green monstrosity rants and roars, ravaging all reasons _not_ to rip Derek's straw mane from his dandruff-infested scalp. But you're Danny Robbins, invisible boy, so you interrupt Claire's raving rambling, instead, with an sensible subterfuge about pink lemonade.

Pink lemonade is your favorite. The sweet tang that impelled you to squeeze your eyes tight, tight, _tight_ so flares and fusillades of color swaddled you in a sour stupor.

Pink lemonade is Claire's favorite as well, furthering heartening her hope—her destiny—of their Lovers in Paris romance.

--**C**--

_I give into the night_

--

Everyone is enamored by the eulogized Massie, her elegance, extravagance and exquisiteness.

(Including Danny Robbins)

But Massie is an immature individual with no idiosyncrasy who idolizes icons like Aubrey Hepburn, Tinsley Carmichael and Blair Waldorf because she is insecure about her own identity.

(Claire knows)

--**C**--

_She's got me on the edge, I'm slipping_

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_"Truth or dare?"_

_"Truth."_

_"Who do you like?"_

_"Promise you won't tell?"_

_"Is it Cam Fisher?"_

_"Promise not to tell?"_

_"Promise."_

_"Danny Robbins."_

--**C**--

_Try to look away_

--

Abby Boyd's Victoria Secret bra is suspended from the ebony tiles of the nightclub by Conner Foley's beer-drenched locks. Conner is sprawled upon the bar with Jim Bean, a martini and two tequilas. His girlfriend's Oscar de la Renta sheath is slouched underneath the many empty champagne flutes, crushed cans, and beer bottles. Claire's nervous eyes water with apprehension from the cigarette smoke. The mahogany bottles brimming with temptation manages to justify the morality of the situation.

Claire carouses, capers, cavorts with the Budweiser can.

Their crusade, conducted by seventeen-year-old Abby Boyd, is comprised of curves, curses, and careens whilst the passengers flounder in their _euphoria_.

_Crash_.

--**C**--

_But she stares down inside me_

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She's dead.

And it's your fault.

--**C**--

_Wednesday's child is full of woe._

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_If Danny Robbins had never exchanged three quarters for pink lemonade, would Claire's massive crush have been rekindled?_

_Would Claire have followed Danny around like a lovesick puppy?_

_Would Claire have fallen as far when she realized like everyone else, Danny is infatuated with Massie?_

_Would Claire have crawled back to her celebrity "friends"?_

_Would Claire have succumbed to alcohol?_

_Would Claire have been in the passenger seat while an intoxicated Abby drove?_

_Would their car still have crashed?_

_Would Claire still be dead?_

If only Danny had never obtained a can of pink lemonade.

--**A/N**--

:)


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